I Am The Son
by SableUnstable
Summary: In a bid to bring back the only person who ever loved him, Draco Malfoy dives deep into dangerously unknown ancient magic. What he doesn't expect, however, is to earn the eternal gratitude of The Boy Who Lived in the process. Post war AU, Drarry, SLASH. Rated M for language and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**I Am The Son**

 **Disclaimer:** I will forever not own Harry Potter or anything officially related.

 **A/N –** Hello! So this, my dear readers, is the first chapter of a story I have been pre-writing for the last many months. The plan was always to wait until after Stages was done to start posting, but unfortunately my muse has decided to seek greener pastures on this story, and I feel that the best way to lure her back is to wave validation under her nose. I will be sticking to the original plan and won't be putting the second chapter up until after I've clicked that magical, amazing 'complete' button on Stages, so view this as a sneak peek, yes? An entire chapter sneak peek, lol. ;)

A massively big shout out to my wonderful, amazing, fantastic alpha readers, **Soupy George, CuriousElfQueen, and Worthfull1.** There's no way in hell I would've gotten this far without the support of these three. Thank you, thank you, thank you, SO much! You all rock! *blows kiss*

Right, enough with the far too long author's note and on with the story! :D

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

 _The Quidditch stadium stood large and vastly empty around him. The dark-haired man sat in the middle of the perfectly oval pitch, long legs stretched straight out, leaning back on his elbows and surveying the seemingly endless seating and the six hoops, three at each end, a contented smile pulling at his mouth. Wearing red playing robes and the appropriate protective gear, he fingered the broom lying on the grass next to him, the latest model and the best yet, they said. In his mind the crowd roared and a faint buzzing of spectator satisfaction – or dissatisfaction depending on which side you were on – hovered in the air around him. He tipped his head back and watched the echo of players flying through the air as they tried desperately to score, keep the Quaffle out of enemy hands, and stop the enemy's Seeker from catching that tiny, elusive gold ball._

 _He'd been there many times before. He'd flown with his team, scored goal after goal, and celebrated with his house and his mates each and every victory; of which there'd been many. He'd been a spectator as well, shouting at the top of his lungs until he'd practically lost his voice and mourning when his team didn't win; of which he liked to pretend hadn't happened often at all. It was one of his best memories, being on his broom in the electrifying atmosphere of a Quidditch game. He missed it more than he liked._

 _He sighed and the flickering ghosts of the players and the audience vanished into nothingness, leaving only an empty wooden stadium. He missed a lot of things._

" _What's wrong?"_

 _James Potter turned his head and smiled at the redheaded witch walking towards him, a look of concern in her bright green eyes. He didn't say anything until she'd reached his side, stepping in between his legs and settling onto the grass, her back against his chest. He pulled his legs up to cradle her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her glorious hair._

 _It was the first thing he'd noticed about her, in first year. Her hair and her eyes, and the resulting tangled, knotty mess of a feeling in his gut had freaked him the hell out. He'd been eleven years old with his first crush and he hadn't handled it well._

 _He could laugh about it now, and he did just that, chuckling quietly into Lily's hair. His wife's body relaxed a bit at the sound._

" _Reminiscing?" she asked, her fingers brushing along his wrist in an old, familiar gesture that never failed to bring him comfort. James shrugged._

" _Just thinking of the way I used to make a fool of myself over you."_

" _Used to?" came the all too amused answer, and James poked her in the side, grinning at the startled yelp it produced. Lily grumbled and rubbed at her side, the mutter quickly turning into a snorting giggle when James buried his face into her neck and snuffled at her like a dog._

" _James! Stop it! You're not Padfoot!"_

 _The strange melancholy tugged at him again, and another sigh escaped. It blew gently against sweet smelling skin and Lily turned in his arms, her forehead against his as she stared into his eyes._

" _What's wrong?" she repeated, the quiet words loud in the heavy stillness._

 _James grimaced. "I just wish… you know."_

 _A short pause and then a butterfly brush of her lips against his. "I know," she whispered. James's arms tightened and they sat in silence for a while until Lily turned back around and waved her hand towards one of the three closest hoops, the round circle enlarging and an image appearing within it, reminding James sharply of a Pensieve. The image showed a young man who looked remarkably like James sitting at a desk and writing steadily, his brow scrunched in concentration. Getting to the end of his piece of parchment, he picked it up and set it aside to dry before sitting back and setting the quill down, flexing the fingers of his writing hand to work out the kinks and rubbing his eyes under his glasses with the other._

 _He looked tired._

" _He works too hard," Lily murmured, and for once James had to agree with her. The dark smudges under Harry's eyes were alarming, standing out against his too pale skin. His hair looked like it'd been hit by lightning, likely from the number of times he'd run his hands through it. Stress carved spidery wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and with hunched shoulders that looked like they carried the weight of the world, he looked much older than his twenty-three years._

 _Harry James Potter had always been a hero. Even after the war had ended, he still felt compelled to fix everything. Save everyone. He felt he owed the people, and he didn't have anyone apart from his two best friends to correct him of that utterly wrong assumption._

 _James knew Harry didn't take any notice of Ron and Hermione when it came to his own well being. He never had. It frustrated him to no end._

" _He's going to work himself to death, James."_

" _No he won't. He's smarter than that."_

" _Is he?" Lily murmured again, sounding distressed. James tucked her further back against him and pressed his lips to the back of her neck, the need to be there for his son; to tell him that he needed to take a break for his own good; to tell him to get his head out of his arse and listen to his father who knew best when he inevitably argued surging desperately through him, making his chest ache._

 _But that was impossible, wasn't it? James scowled and hid his face in Lily's hair. Fucking death. He hated it._

" _Hermione's been pecking at him a bit more than usual lately. Maybe he'll listen? I'll say this for the girl, she doesn't know how to give up- James?"_

 _There was a niggling under his breastbone. James sat, leaning his head against his wife, frowning at the weird, out-of-the blue wiggle. He pressed his hand to his chest, puzzled frown growing as the wiggle grew as well, beginning to spread and envelope, then slash and dig and carve in, and his head shot up on a choked gasp when it suddenly began to_ tug.

" _James? James, what's the matter?"_

" _Lily," he groaned, body slumping and hand scrambling at his chest. It hurt. It was hurting him. It was tugging, so hard, and it was making his vision waver, and he didn't know what was going on. Lily jumped to her feet and grabbed his shoulder, panic growing wild in her eyes._

" _James!"_

" _Get… away," he forced out as the tugging became a Tsunami of pulling; pulling him down; pulling him through; pulling him apart._

 _Pulling him apart. Pulling him_ apart. _Oh god, it hurt, it HURT._

" _James!" Lily cried, her voice hysterical and yet somehow distance in his ears. "James! I don't know what to do! Wait, what are you… no! No, no, no!"_

" _L-Lily, g-go!"_

" _No! Stop! Leave him alone!"_

" _Lils," he muttered, teeth clenched because it hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before, "you h-have to… you have to… get away… f-fuck! Lily!"_

" _JAMES!"_

 _It was pulling him apart, it was pulling him_ through, _it was sucking him into a bottomless tunnel and tearing him to pieces as it did so. James bellowed and hands clamped down on his arms, and Lily screamed, the sound a jagged wound in his already destroyed mind. Wind that wasn't wind pummelled him, a feeling that was a hundred times worse than apparition spiked brutally into his centre, and he came apart and came apart and came apart-_

-and then he opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at a decidedly unfamiliar ceiling.

"Mother of Merlin."

Not recognizing the shocked exclamation breathed from somewhere across the room, James groaned and tried to turn his head, and then his body when his head wouldn't cooperate. The effort was futile however, because his body was vibrating with some sort of tension; his muscles shaking as if he hadn't used them in years. It took everything he had to move a single finger.

That single finger scraped against another palm and James eyes shot wide.

 _Lily!_

"L-Lily," he croaked, voice breaking. Clearing his throat, he tried again, all the while begging his body to move. Just _move._ "L-Lily?"

"She's still unconscious."

James's eyes darted to the side. His vision swam. "Who's there?!" he barked, or tried to. His voice felt rusty and it was hard to form words. Sensing hesitation from the could-be adversary, he hissed a frustrated breath through his teeth and focused back on trying to get his body to move.

He had to get Lily to safety.

"Stop, you can't… o-oh-h," the voice said, tone turning low and whispery. A shadow caught James's attention and finally finding the gumption to move his neck half an inch, he turned his head just in time to see a young man no older than Harry swaying on the spot. His face was a sickly grey; a hue that matched his eyes, James noted when said eyes fluttered open and looked back down at him, gaze unfocused.

He looked disturbingly familiar. James's scowled.

"Who're you and what the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded, voice cracking. The boy blinked slowly, tried to take a step forward and then groaned a second time and passed out, right at the other man's feet.

"Ah, fuck," James breathed, craning his neck to stare at the crumpled body, the splash of dishevelled blond hair bright against the faded, threadbare carpet. Well that was just great. Now what the hell was he going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**I Am The Son**

 **Disclaimer:** I will forever not own Harry Potter or anything officially related.

 **A/N -** Hello, hello! So it seems I _won't_ be sticking to the original plan and waiting until Stages is complete to post more on this story. Why, you ask? Because Stages is taking forever to finish and I don't want to wait any longer. I'm posting this chapter because I recently got reminded that I can, lol. ;) Hope you enjoy!

 _"Ah, fuck," James breathed, craning his neck to stare at the crumpled body, the splash of dishevelled blond hair against the faded, threadbare carpet. Well that was just great. Now what the hell was he going to do?_

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

"Oi, you! Wake up!"

Swimming in a sea of muffled buzzing, Draco's brow creased as something hard nudged him in the side. A voice that made no sense seemed to be shouting at him, fading in and out, like his grandfather's old wireless used to do until you shook it. But as a heavy weight also seemed to be dragging him downwards, keeping his eyes closed and his body sprawled on the floor, he ignored whoever it was trying to get his attention. It was too much work to acknowledge and answer. He was too tired.

Far too damn tired.

He was fucking exhausted.

"Oh no you don't, sunshine. I saw that forehead twitch. Open your bloody eyes. You've got some explaining to do."

The hard whatever that had connected with his side the first time connected even harder, and Draco's eyes sprang open on a gasp, all the fog in his brain evaporating, the air in his lungs following a split second behind. For a long, confusing moment, he gaped blindly up at the unknown person scowling down at him, trying to suck back in the oxygen he'd lost. Slowly, the confusion cleared, allowing him to think and comprehend that there was someone he didn't know, a _stranger_ standing over him, and that he really shouldn't still be lying there, completely at this person's mercy.

His instincts abruptly screaming at him to _move_ , Draco jerked to the side… and found himself in exactly the same spot. Panic began to coat the confusion, and his eyes grew wide when he tried again and his body just didn't move like he was rather frantically telling it to. The signals were getting from his brain to his muscles but his muscles weren't understanding, and he lay there, helpless, a dead weight on the floor.

Muggles had a thing called cement, right? Millicent had told him about that. He thought maybe there was cement in his veins now, and his mind was squawking, scrambling to figure out why and making it hard to pinpoint a single course of action. He swallowed hard, his arms and legs beginning to hurt from the effort of trying to follow his brain's instructions. Above him, the expression on the stranger's face grew impatient.

"Can you talk?" he demanded. Draco blinked and considered, the question helping him focus. _Could he talk?_

"Yes," he gasped, choking on the word and coughing so hard, his throat hurt. Why was he so _heavy_? What was holding him down? "Who are you?"

"I'll ask the questions, mate," the man said, crouching next to Draco with a frown and fingering the wand in his hand. Draco's panic rocketed when he realised that it was his. "It's who you are that's the important thing. And what the fuck's going on here. We were… and now we're not…" the stranger trailed off and pinned Draco with a sharp, piercing look. "What did you do and how the fuck did you do it?!"

"I'm afraid that I don't have a clue what you are talking about," Draco answered, trying desperately for his usual bored drawl and falling far wide of the mark. His voice caught and he coughed again, head whirling. He was stuck to the fucking floor and it felt like he could possibly pass out again at any given moment.

 _Today is not a good day._

"Like hell you don't," the man scowled, hazel eyes flicking over Draco behind ancient looking glasses. Brain swelling with fractured, random thoughts, Draco pondered the fact that he'd been sure the only person who still wore those stupid, tiny round frames was bloody Potter, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fuck-Off, which was obviously wrong because-

The sound of everything clicking into place and illuminating his mind was a sharp, crystal-clear _snap._ The man was still scowling, and when Draco didn't reply to his accusation, he growled under his breath and speared a hand through his hair.

The resemblance was fucking uncanny.

"Potter," Draco croaked, the events of the evening swamping his brain. Getting prepared; ignoring his anxieties; telling himself that he was justified in doing the spell; actually casting the spell; feeling his magic being drained from him as a vampire would drain a body of blood; feeling the lost magic hook onto something and _pull_ , and then watching two people he didn't know and hadn't been expecting flicker into being and hit the floor, the ritual completing with enough force to shake the house and take the old, musty library to pieces. He gawked up at the man, not even blinking when the person he'd brought back to life shoved his own wand in his face.

It wasn't supposed to be him. He was the wrong person. _They_ were the wrong person. He'd performed the ritual correctly, hadn't he? Yes, he was positive he had.

So why was _he_ here, standing over him? Come to think of it, how was it possible that the ritual had brought _two_ people through?

 _Why hadn't it worked?_

"How do you know my name?" James Potter – _because it_ _absolutely fucking had to be James Potter didn't it, Harry-Scar-Head-Potter was already amongst the bloody_ _living_ – spat, hand wrapped tight around the base of Draco's replacement wand. Absurdly, he was in a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform and looked barely out of his teens. Mind blank, Draco lay there and stared.

He sucked in a hurried breath when his wand was suddenly drilled into the side of his nose.

"Answer me!"

"You look like your son," Draco told him without thinking, then snapped his mouth shut when astonishment, fear and then finally a fierce protectiveness passed through James's eyes. He growled again, louder this time, and Draco was sure the tip of his wand was going to cut through his skin.

"How the hell do you know my-" he started to say, cutting himself off when a low groan echoed through the library. His head jerked around and the indecision on his face as his head swivelled from the other side of the room to Draco and back again would've been funny if Draco could've found any part of the situation funny at all. His wand hand didn't waver, and when the other person groaned again, Draco sighed.

"Go see to her. I'm not going anywhere, am I?" he said tiredly, voice just this side of sardonic as he tried to move his hand, not even getting a twitch from the appendage. Potter chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then nodded and slowly took a step back, wand still firmly aimed at Draco. Another step and he was out of Draco's line of sight, and shortly thereafter Draco was straining his ears to hear what he was saying to his just-becoming-conscious wife.

His _wife._

James Potter's _wife._

 _Lily Potter._

Sweet Salazar and holy fucking Merlin, what in the bloody buggering, twice-damned hell had he _done_?!

"Lily? Lily-flower? Open your eyes, my love. Please? Lils, please open your eyes. Come on now. That's it. All the way, Lily-flower. There you are. Good girl."

A third groan and then, in a slurred voice that Draco still heard plain as day: "Potter, how many times have I told you not to call me Lily-flower?"

The relief in James's laughter tugged at Draco's gut in a way that was entirely unpleasant. "You beautiful creature," he continued, voice now slightly muffled. "You fucking perfect creature. Always one more time, Evans, you know that. Can you sit up? Lean on me, love. How are you feeling? Anything sore?"

"My head…" Lily moaned, and then came the sound of shushing and material rustling, followed by soft murmuring and a long sigh. Draco swallowed, entire conversations he shouldn't have been privy to echoing through the silence they fell into after speaking. He stared silently up at the ceiling for a three-count and then closed his eyes.

"There's a pain potion in the desk drawer," he said very quietly, grimacing internally when he realised that yes, it _had_ been him who had spoken and not some miraculously appeared foolishly sympathetic sap. He didn't open his eyes and the silence took on another quality.

"Who's that?" Lily Potter whispered faintly. Draco could feel the should-still-be-dead witch peering at him from her place on the floor, confusion rife. "James, what's going on? Where are we?"

"I don't know, love, but I'm going to find out. I'll get you that pain potion, yeah?"

"That's if it is a pain potion and not some type of poison… James, where's Harry?"

Draco's eyes shot open.

"Harry?" Potter replied, now sounding confused himself. "I'm not sure, sweetheart, but I'm sure we'll find-"

" _You're not sure_?" Lily barked, interrupting him, her voice suddenly much stronger. The bullet of words would've made Draco jump if he could move. "James Potter, how can you not be sure where our baby is?! We have to find him! Dear God, what if Voldemort's got him?! This isn't Godric's Hollow. Why aren't we at Godric's Hollow?! You know it isn't safe to leave yet! Jamie, what the fuck is going on?!"

Her voice died into a silence that continued to ring with her hysteria. Draco's heart thumped _hard_ , and when James Potter whispered "baby?" in an utterly bewildered tone, he knew something else besides the fact that they were alive was very, very wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Am The Son**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form.

 **A/N -** Hello! Third chapter! Please enjoy! :)

 _Her voice died into a silence that continued to ring with her hysteria. Draco's heart thumped hard, and when James Potter whispered "baby?" in an utterly bewildered tone, he knew something else besides the fact that they were alive was very, very wrong._

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

"Tell me it's really a pain potion."

"It is," Draco said faintly, then heard the man mutter something to his wife and watched him hurry over to the desk and roughly jerk the drawer open. He scooped up a vial and shut the drawer with a slam, soon out of Draco's eyesight again. There was a lot of shuffling, some harsh, hissed protest and answering, almost pleading reassurances, and then a soft, groaning sigh.

Bemusement and disbelief had Draco wanting to frown. He didn't know why Potter was trusting him so easily. Wasn't he supposed to have been an active participant in the first war?

"Better, love?"

"Yeah, some," Lily Potter answered, her voice less tight with pain, although still heavily guarded. Draco couldn't turn his head but he still saw her suspicious glare plain as day, the expression somehow making him feel better. "Who is he, James? Can he be trusted? We need to find Harry!"

"We will, Lils, I swear. First though, can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"Why?" Lily snapped. "We're wasting time, James! Why are you stalling?!"

"I'm not stalling, Lily, but you really do need to tell me that last thing you remember. Please?"

Draco heard the low hiss of frustration and just had enough time to think that he was glad he wasn't the one going against an irate woman desperate for her child before she spoke again. "The last thing I remember, _Potter_ , was Voldemort coming to the fucking door and you telling me to take Harry and go! I ran up the stairs while you faced… you faced…" she trailed off and confusion began to creep into her voice. "I heard you… you fell. You… fell. J-James?"

Potter sighed. "That's what I was afraid of," he muttered, and this time the frustrated hiss had a heavily panic-stricken undertone. Draco stared up at the ceiling, his face carefully blank, feeling extremely uncomfortable. With subtle movements, he tried again to move his arms and legs.

He didn't want to be here for this. He didn't want _them_ to be here.

He didn't want to face his monumentally idiotic mistake.

 _What in the blue blazes had he gone and done?_

"James Charlus Potter, you tell me what the bloody hell is going on this instant! Where is my baby?!

"He isn't here, Lily. And he isn't a baby anymore. Listen, please just trust me, sweetheart. Harry is safe. He is safe, isn't he?"

It took a moment for Draco to realize the question was directed at him. Going still, the tentative excitement he'd been feeling at the twitching in his fingers – _they were moving!_ – fled by force; deliberately pushed away. It probably wasn't a good idea to let them know he could move, and besides, being able to move was one thing; getting out of the room was entirely another.

Getting out of the room and locking the other two in? Not something he was sure was possible. But he had to try. Until he figured out what the hell had gone wrong, having two dead people wandering around, alive as they'd been twenty or so years ago, would be bad. Very bad.

"He's perfectly fine," he told the ceiling, a sneer invading his tone by habit. "Saint Potter's a resilient little shite after all, isn't he?"

The only answer from the other side of the room was a low, thoughtful hum. Draco blocked it out, as well as the continuing questions from Lily Potter as he tried again and again to get his limbs to move without letting the other two people in the room know. For whatever reason, it was just as mentally exhausting as it was physically, and his vision was blurring when a shaft of not-at-all tentative excitement shot through him as he very slowly lifted his arm and laid his hand palm-down on his stomach. Heart pounding, he drew in a long, deep breath through his nose and inched one leg up and then the other until they were bent at the knees, praying to Merlin and Salazar and all the deities he could think of that the Potters took no notice. With the soles of his dragonhide boots firmly on the floor, he paused and closed his eyes before blinking up at the ceiling again, a strange but somehow familiar hot tingle rushing along his nerve endings and pooling in his sternum, right under his heart.

He knew what it was. The knowledge was sudden and brought forth a soft, resigned sigh. Draco licked cracked, dry lips as he focused inward, trying his best to centre himself and assess the state of his severely depleted magical core. It made sense, really. He'd fed his magic into the spell and the spell had fed on his magic.

The spell had practically sucked him dry.

 _And it didn't even work. Why, why,_ why _didn't it work?! It doesn't make any sense!_

 _Am I really not worthy?_

Lips flattening, Draco shoved the tired disappointment, and the anger, and the useless distress and insecurity back into the dark recesses of his mind where they belonged. It wasn't the time to focus on his failures, as large and as constant as they were. He needed to get moving, get out of the room; get out of the _house_ , and do all that while keeping Lily and James Potter locked and secret within. He needed to rest, recoup and regrow his magic.

And after that he needed to figure out how in Merlin's name he was going to send the pair currently whispering furiously to each other back where they belonged.

"What the fuck do you mean, we were dead?"

It was spoken so softly, so chillingly calm and monotone, that he felt it reverberate forcefully through the room. Draco froze and stared up at the ceiling, holding his breath, and by the sounds of the total and absolute _lack_ of sound following the question, so did James Potter. Seconds ticked by.

"James?"

"Don't panic, Lils," Potter whispered, the words running together in an almost unintelligible sentence. Mrs Potter laughed.

It wasn't a joyful sound.

"Don't panic? _Don't panic_? You're telling me that my son, my _baby_ , is all grown up and in his twenties, we've been dead since he was fifteen months, and we've now miraculously come back to life, and you _don't want me to panic_?! How the hell else am I _supposed_ to react? You're barking!"

"I'm not. It's the truth, my love," Potter said in a quiet voice. His wife let out another one of those hisses.

"Then why in all of God's green Earth don't I remember all that like _you_ seem to be able to?!"

Draco sighed and closed his eyes, all thoughts of stealth and subtlety vanishing. _Ah, fuck._

"That's a very good question," Potter murmured, and it was as if the subject was a physical entity, turning on its enemy. The tension twisted and morphed and rained right down on him, and Draco focused all his will on moving his torso and sitting up.

It was time to leave. Now.

"Forgetting something, mate?"

Draco yelped when a low-grade stinging hex caught him in the hip. His head sprang up and fear and panic seeped over his skin like ice as he mentally called himself every name under the sun, his eyes locked on _his_ wand dancing, knuckle over knuckle, through Potter's fingers.

How could he have forgotten that Potter had his wand?!

"Now," James Potter said, crouching down and tapping the tip of Draco's wand against his chin, his wife sitting against the bottom of an empty, crooked bookcase and eyeing Draco like she was trying to pick him apart piece by piece. "You're going to do some talking, yeah? Explain yourself some."

With a final, huge effort, Draco forced himself up and slumped heavily against the wall, his chin lifting and his lip curling, grey eyes defiant. "I will do no such thing."

Potter grinned. "Oh ho, son, you haven't got a choice, have you?" he said, fingers tightening around Draco's wand. His eyes were hard. "Talk. Or I'll make you."

Back going up at the order - he was Draco Lucius Malfoy for Salazar's sake, who the hell thought they could order _him_ about? - Draco glared and opened his mouth to put the recently-dead git back in his place. Any verbal slaying was halted in its tracks, however, when a loud _crack_ rang through the house, making all three head whip towards the door. A minute later, said door burst open, the person on the other side entering wand-first and then coming to an abrupt stop two steps across the threshold as if he'd run into a solid brick wall. Light green eyes widened to the size of saucers, the colour draining in an alarming rush from a weary, lined face.

Draco sighed and just managed to lift a stone-heavy hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, the need to bang his head repeatedly against the wall incredibly strong. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ Just where exactly had his blasted _brains_ gone?!

"Remus?" Lily Potter whispered into the deadly silent room, her voice shaking as much as Grimmauld Place's library had not too long before.


	4. Chapter 4

**I Am The Son**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or anything related.

 _"Remus?" Lily Potter whispered into the deadly silent room, her voice shaking as much as Grimmauld Place's library had not too long before._

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

"Who the fuck are you?"

Remus Lupin's strangled question may as well have been shouted. He stood in the doorway with his wand firmly raised, his brown corduroy trousers and striped woolen jumper well-worn and patched in places. His hair was a mess and there were dark circles under his eyes; eyes that were slowly sharpening, the shock and disbelief fading under heavy suspicion and a hard, war-surviving mistrust.

Draco had seen that look many times in the years since Potter-the-twat had saved them all. He'd seen it in his own eyes. It wasn't something you could avoid.

"Christ, Moony, you got _old_."

"James."

"What? He did!" other-Potter protested, turning from his wife and throwing Lupin an easy grin. Draco got the feeling that he was trying to lighten the mood. Instead, all it did was make Lupin's eyes narrow. His grip on his wand tightened, the aim now shifting to land directly on his once-dead best mate's chest.

"I repeat; who the fuck are you?"

The grin died and James Potter very slowly rose to his feet. "Moony. Mate. It's me."

"You're lying," Lupin said calmly. His eyes flicked to Draco for a brief second and then snapped right back to the person he thought was an imposter. "James and Lily Potter are dead. You're using Polyjuice or something similar, it doesn't matter what, but you are not James Potter and if you don't drop the charade right now, I will drop it for you."

"Remus, it is us," Lily Potter said softly, her face pale. Pushing herself up by her hands, she used the bookcase as leverage to get to her feet as well, her slight body swaying once upright. Ignoring the wand pointed at his heart, other-Potter shot over to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"All right, love?"

"I'm fine, Jamie. Just a little lightheaded. Remus, ask us a question."

Lupin's brow was furrowed, his eyes locked on the way other-Potter was fussing over his wife. "What?"

"Ask us a question. One only we'll know the answer to. Like the Order used to do."

"Yeah, Moony, you know the drill. Ask us."

Pressing his lips together, Lupin again looked at Draco. There were questions in his eyes, ones Draco knew he was going to have to answer sooner or later. For now though, all he did was scowl and look down until he felt Lupin's eyes leave him.

The guilt was unexpected. He didn't like it.

"Rem?"

"What was Lily Potter's reaction when she first found out she was pregnant?"

Surprised, Draco looked up in time to see other-Potter's brows wing as he turned to his wife. Mrs Potter's face was slowly turning red, her worried expression transforming into a look of irritation she was sending straight at Lupin. Lupin's expression was bland, his wand still high.

Lily huffed. "Did it have to be _that_ question?"

"Yes," Lupin said. His eyes didn't falter. "Answer the question."

"Yes, Lily-flower, do tell."

"Shut it, Potter. Fine," the witch sighed, glaring at Lupin. "I'll answer the question, but only because this is something that only Remus and I were ever supposed to know, so it'll prove who we are irrefutably. My first reaction when I found out I was pregnant was severe and crippling panic."

Other-Potter's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "What?"

"Christ, I didn't want you to know about this," Lily grumbled, leaning more solidly back against the bookcase and rubbing the back of her neck. Her husband's arm didn't move from around her waist. "It gives the complete wrong impression. Yes, James, I freaked out when I found out Harry was on the way; enough that Remus had to talk me through a panic attack. We were so young. Still are, I guess." Her laugh was as humourless as her eyes were timid when she looked at Potter, who looked like he'd been slapped in the face with a fish. "I just… I loved you so much, and the day I married you was the best of my life up to that point, but this was a _baby._ It seemed like such a life-altering event. Life- _stopping_. Remus calmed me down and got me to think, and I talked to you after, you remember that. I was thrilled about it then. I just didn't tell you about the first bit because I didn't want you to think I didn't want Harry."

Draco watched as a rush of fond exasperation swept across Potter's face. "Well, you're a bit daft, aren't you?"

"Maybe a bit," Lily said after a moment, smiling as other-Potter wrapped both arms around her and tucked her head under his chin, the action looking so utterly natural that it made Draco uncomfortable. Something in his stomach twisted, agitation quickly trailing in its wake.

They were in company, for Merlin's sake. Public displays of affection were not meant for company. Potter was a pureblood, he should know that.

"Sweet Jesus."

The whisper shot through the room, drawing the attention of all three. Lupin's face had paled even further; so much so Draco thought he was going to pass out. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and very gradually, his wand lowered.

"Lily?"

Lily Potter smiled warmly and turned in other-Potter's arms, her back to his chest. "Hello, Remus."

"Hey, Moony. Long time no see, yeah?"

Lupin's face was grey. "P-Prongs," he muttered hollowly, and then his legs gave out. Lily Potter gasped as he collapsed, Draco's body jerked, and other-Potter very gently lifted his wife in his arms and carried her across the room, dropping them both to the ground once he'd reached Lupin's side and taking Lupin by the shoulders. Lupin's head lifted as if dragged against his will at the touch.

"Rem? Don't go swooning on me, mate. Padfoot was always the biggest bird of us lot, you don't want to steal his crown, do you?"

The burst of laughter Lupin let out sounded more like sobbing. "H-how?" he asked, wiping his face. "How is this possible? Oh god, James… James." Launching himself forward, he threw his arms around other-Potter, almost knocking him over. "You're alive. How? James, you're alive."

"Yeah, but I won't be if you break my ribs, Moony," other-Potter laughed. He wrapped his arms around the older man and hugged him back. "Hey there. All right?"

"N-no. I guess. Y-yeah. I-I don't know how this is possible though. How is this possible?"

"It isn't us you should be asking, Remus," Mrs Potter said softly, running her hand over Lupin's hair. Draco winced. Fuck if he hadn't liked being forgotten about. "We don't know the answer to that either. But we're guessing he does."

Without saying a word, Lupin disentangled himself from other-Potter and turned to the redhead next to him, wrapping her up in his arms. The silence continued as they embraced, and Draco was just beginning to think about testing his returning facilities and trying to edge towards the door when Lupin breathed in through his nose and opened his eyes, looking right at Draco over Lily Potter's head. Their gazes clashed, and sucking in a fortifying breath, Draco lifted his chin and sent his coldest look back.

It felt like he'd been pinned to the floor. _Fuck._

"Draco. I think you've got some explaining to do, don't you?"


End file.
